


The Elephant In The Closet

by Rozarka



Series: Circumnavigation [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Watersports, Bad Boys Who Aren't So Bad After All, F/M, Gryffindor, HP: EWE, Humor, Locked In, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozarka/pseuds/Rozarka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continued from 'Circumnavigation'. Hermione had two mugs of tea and a bottle of water, then spent a day in a closet with Cormac McLaggen. Do your own math.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Elephant In The Closet

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for watersports, sort of. (Pretty mild and very accidental watersports, but there is peeing and there is sexual excitement as a result thereof.)
> 
> Beta thanks to Anise and Muridae.

 

She felt _so_ nice. Warm to her toes and her fingertips. More than warm, she felt hot all over, at once energised and languid from a playful, golden heat.

 _Arousal_. It tingled between her legs, in the pit of her belly, at the tight, aching points of her breasts. It felt delicious and she rubbed wantonly against the hard male body pressing up against her, wanting more.

"Hermione—"

"Mmmron..."

There was a heavy exhalation of breath, which she felt against her hair as she heard it. "No. Not Ron. C'mon, Granger, wake up!"

She woke to the rather less exciting sensations of cramped legs, a sense of pressure in her bladder, and a steady pounding in her ear. The knowledge of being embraced was close to her mind, comforting, and despite her embarrassment she resisted the slow waking and the urge to move. That saved her looking at Cormac while she was still blushing from the dream, too. She really hoped he hadn't noticed. 

"Hey." His voice was a bit rusty, and he cleared his throat. "Did you get some rest?"

"Yeah." She kept her eyes shut, burrowing closer. She realised now that the pounding she heard was the steady beat of his heart. Her head lay against his chest. "How long was I out?"

"Almost an hour." He moved his arm and checked his wristwatch. "It's just gone four o'clock."

"Oh. Oh, god, your legs must be killing you. You should have woken me up before now." Still groggy, she sat up, and he offered her his hand for balance as she got to her feet.

"No, I figured it was good that time could pass a bit more quickly for you, but... things were getting out of hand." The teasing smirk he gave her made all the blood rush to her face again. "It's all right, I've been shifting around a bit. Don't mind if I stretch my legs now, though." Cormac pushed himself up as well, immediately looming over her.

He _had_ noticed. Hermione had trouble looking him in the face. But lowering her gaze only made it linger on his crotch, which showed rather impressive signs of interest. She couldn't even blame him; if her dream sensations had been anything to go by, she'd been rubbing herself all over him.

However, as what he'd said earlier sank in and registered, it overshadowed her embarrassment with a dejection strong enough to blot out everything else.

"Three hours," she said stonily. What the hell were Ron and Harry doing? Surely they should have been back long ago.

"Perhaps they went straight back to headquarters?" Cormac must have caught her look of alarm, because he shook his head at once. "Hey, don't worry too much. Someone will discover we're gone soon enough, and they'll know where to start looking for us."

"Back to the Aurors' office?" Hermione groaned, feeling panic clench her stomach. "I just... no. It won't be much longer, will it?"

"I hope not." He frowned, studying her. "Are you all right?"

"Just wishing I hadn't had two mugs of tea this morning and a bottle of water on the way here," she said flatly.

He gave a sympathetic nod. "Ah. Yeah, most women seem to have bladders the size of walnuts."

"I'm going to kill them if they don't get here soon."

Cormac grinned, and gave her arm a brief, encouraging squeeze. "Hey. If you're desperate, use that corner, and I'll turn my back and sing 'Hoggy hoggy Hogwarts' at the top of my lungs while you open the floodgates. I always knew school choir practice would come in handy one day."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she had to laugh, too. "Um, yeah. Not happening. Let's just... talk of something else. Were you in the school choir, McLaggen, really?"

"Cormac. And yup. I have quite a lovely baritone, by various accounts."

She leaned against the wall, eyebrows raised. "Always so modest. Let's hear, then."

He ducked his head that was already bowed for the ceiling, with a low snort of surprise before he met her gaze again. "You want to hear me sing? Well... all right."

Expecting the loud rendering of the Hogwarts song that he'd mentioned, she waited, a sceptical grin playing around her lips.

" _A Mhàiri bhàn òg, 's tu 'n òigh th'air m'aire,  
Ri'm bheò bhi far am bithinn fhéin..._ "

She did a double take, her lips parting in an astonished intake of breath. He winked at her and continued singing. His voice was deep and warm, with perfect pitch, and there was a tenderness in the delivery that fit the simple, beautiful melody.

When he was done with the single verse, Hermione was speechless and still agape.

He laughed, clearly enjoying her reaction but seeming rather bashful, too, which she had _not_ expected from Cormac McLaggen. "What?"

"That was beautiful! Your voice is beautiful. You speak Gaelic?"

"Only a little. I know what the song means, since I sang it recently at my cousin's wedding, but I don't really speak Scottish Gaelic or understand it very well. My father knows some, though. And my grandmother is fluent."

"What's the song about?"

"It's a love song from a man to his bride. His 'Mary, young and fair'."

Hermione shook her head, smiling. "I'll admit, you managed to surprise me. Very pleasantly so."

"I'm sure I could surprise you pleasantly in other respects, as well." He waggled his eyebrows, and grinned when Hermione sighed and leaned forward to smack his chest with her fist. "What? I'm thinking of my talents in... French cuisine, of course."

"You were not," she said, her eyes narrowed. "And who says it would be such a surprise. You're not exactly under-advertising, McLaggen. You're practically... strutting with it."

She made very sure not to let her gaze stray down from his face, but her blush probably told it all.

"Cormac. Please. So you're saying that you wouldn't be surprised to find out that I was a good lover?" He grinned.

That was certainly not what she had meant to say, but thinking back she realised that it was exactly what she _had_ said, and she dropped her gaze and made an evasive manoeuvre instead. "Do you really cook? French?"

"To be honest," he replied with a laugh, "no. I just live next door to a French restaurant and... like to eat French. A lot."

Oh god, how was it possible to imbue an innocent phrase with so much unashamed suggestiveness? Hermione tried with all her might not to stare at his tongue licking out and his white teeth sinking into his plump bottom lip as he said the words 'like to eat French'. How had she forgotten how utterly sleazy this man could be? It was unbelievable that this was the same man who had given her that bashful grin after demonstrating his singing voice.

She swallowed hard against her dry throat. "Right. I don't know why I believe a single word you say," she said, feeling strangely hot all over. It mingled with the heaviness of her full bladder to a bodily awareness that hovered between arousal and discomfort.

He scooted down a bit along the wall to straighten his back, shifting his feet forward on the floor to compensate, on either side of her legs. It brought him closer to eye level with her and aligned their hips, her feet bracketed by his. "So, still carrying a torch for Weasley, huh?"

Her gaze cut to his face. "Why do you think that?" 

"All the wiggling and squirming in my lap and murmurs of 'mmmRon'?"

She gave him a dirty look, and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "Have you ever heard of discretion, McLaggen? Tact?"

"Cormac," he said. "And sure I've heard about it, but I'd say indiscretion's already got the better of us. Impossible to ignore the proverbial elephant in a room as tiny as this."

It felt like the heat coming off her face would be enough to illuminate the room. He did have a point. "Thanks," she said at length. "For not taking advantage."

"Hey, you'd have killed me when you woke up enough to find out."

"So you waking me was a pre-emptive strike? More sense in you than one would think," she ventured with a reluctant smirk.

"Damn right." He grinned, his teeth sinking into his lower lip again as he studied her shrewdly. "So, _are_ you still carrying a torch for Weasley?"

The repeated question drove home the realisation that he truly wanted to know, and she regarded him in surprise, feeling downright shy for a moment. "Um... no. I guess Ron's just the one that came to mind since, well, uh... he's the only man I've been involved with, and..."

She hand-waved the rest, already regretting how the moment's confusion had led her astray.

He tilted his head, regarding her sharply. "The _only_? As in, the only man you've ever slept with?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "It's not something I'm ashamed of. Or proud of, for that matter. It's just the way things have worked out. I only meant to say that... well, I don't carry a torch for Ron! Or, um, fantasise about him excessively. It's quite natural for an erotic dream to have elements of one's personal experience, and, well — he's the sum total of mine." She forced herself to shut up the defensive tirade, aware that her face must be the colour of ripe tomatoes.

"Oh," he said. "I see." He looked as if he really thought he did.

"See what?" she said crossly, after waiting half a minute to see if he'd volunteer.

"Oh, nothing." He studied his fingernails.

Letting out a huff of breath, she battled the strong impulse to kick his shin, which would only hurt her bare toes. "Whatever it is you think you're seeing, you're drawing rash conclusions on the basis of extremely scant information."

He laughed, and leaned forward, raising a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The soft brush of his thumb along the upper rim of her ear sent a shudder through her and fine hairs rising at the nape of her neck, and she made a noise in her throat, her eyes widening. 

"I don't think they're so rash," he murmured. His lips were parted, his gaze intently trained on her reactions. "I was merely reflecting that given that you and Weasley called it off last Christmas, and he is by your own confession your 'only', you haven't had a man inside you for half a year. No wonder that you went all cuddly on me."

"Had a... had a man inside—!" She stopped, her mouth half agape, utterly flabbergasted by his cheek. "Right, because penetrative sex is what every woman lives for."

"Hey, given the way you ground down on my dick, it's not an unreasonable theory," he said, crossing his arms to mimic her and giving her a level look.

She snorted. "Well, I don't measure my half-years by it, believe me."

"A good thing, as it turns out," he replied deadpan.

"Shut up, McLaggen. _Now_."

"Cormac," he corrected her stubbornly, before signalling with a finger across his lips that he was, indeed, shutting up.

***

An hour later, there was still no sign of Harry or Ron. And she was in trouble. 

They'd sat down again a while ago; she was in his lap, and his arms around her were gentle. "Come on," he said. "You're suffering. I can tell."

She shook her head, burrowing her face against his shoulder in utter misery. It wasn't a denial, though. The only thing she could manage to think of was how badly she needed to empty her bladder and, as Cormac had just demonstrated, how at such close quarters she didn't have much hope of hiding it.

It was almost a relief that he knew, that she didn't have to try to act like nothing was wrong. Her stomach _hurt_ and the dread that she might lose control and wet herself was petrifying.

A large hand cupped her chin and tipped her face up to his. "This has a very simple solution," he said. "Take a piss. I won't look, or even listen. I've told you."

The vulgarity of the phrase was enough on its own to make her muscles clench up further, and she closed her eyes. "No!" 

"Oh, Merlin. I forget what a prim little thing you are. Get up and... pee. Does that sound better? You don't need to be this miserable, it's stupid."

"I _can't_."

"If it was a man in your predicament, he'd swagger up broad-legged, splash a gallon on the floor making as much noise as possible, shake his dick proudly afterwards and end it all with a scratch of his balls and a self-satisfied smile. Believe me."

She could tell that he was trying to make her laugh, but the description of relief was torture in itself. "Please, don't..."

"Sorry," he said, stroking her hair.

"I can't help it. I'm not a man."

"No," he said quietly, and sighed. "I've noticed that. For years, in fact. This is ridiculous. Come here." He stood up, taking her with him, and she whimpered as the pressure on her bladder shifted. 

"I _can't_!"

"Yes, Hermione, you can."

"But we can't use cleaning spells on this room," she blurted desperately. "I tried it on the floor when we were sitting down the first time."

"Yeah? I don't care. We'll be out of here soon."

"Well, I do. It could be _hours_ , and Harry and Ron would know as soon as they open the door, and—"

The soft press of lips against hers broke off the hysterical pitch of her voice. She gasped, her eyes flying wide open. Cormac's eyes were closed, but he ended the kiss almost at once and met her gaze, serious. "Right, the cleaning spell didn't take on the floor. Let's try something." 

He drew his wand, and pointed it at the scuffed tip of his shoe. " _Reparo_."

The leather of the shoe repaired itself at once, shiny and mark-free after a second.

She looked up at him, at once glimpsing some hope and panicked at the thought of what that hope implied. "But we weren't able to Apparate out of here," she protested.

"True, but my guess is that any other common spell than Apparition will work, except on the room itself." He leaned down and arranged his cloak in a corner. "Do it on my cloak. Just say the cleaning spell at once and it won't even soak into the floor. You'll feel so much better, and no one will know."

The mere mention of anyone knowing made her freeze. "If you ever tell anyone about this—"

"I wouldn't be that mean." He closed his hands around her shoulders, his hazel gaze catching hers. "I swear. On my mother's grave. Not the most delicate of women, but I can promise you that she'd come back to haunt me for being that much of a prick."

"So, is your mother really dead or is this like with the French cuisine?" she asked, unable to hide her doubt.

"She is. She died two years ago."

"Oh," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's all right. I take the mickey a lot, can't blame you for not knowing when I'm serious. But I am. So that's one thing you don't need to fret about."

"Thanks." She closed her eyes. "I really don't know—"

Another soft kiss landed on her lips. "I'm turning around now." He gave her an encouraging grin when her eyes opened. "And I _will_ be singing at the top of my lungs."

Seconds later, the first verse of the Hogwarts song intoned in a full, rich baritone through the tiny room.

Hermione glanced up at his turned back, and then, with a small sob of absolute defeat, she drew her wand and stepped out of her knickers. Hitching up the edge of her skirt, she squatted on the cloak lying bunched up in the corner.

It took a while for her strained muscles to relax. Suddenly, she felt the warm stream release, and her wand was pointed and ready as she squeaked out the spell.

It didn't _work_. The urine splattered her leg and pooled on the cloak, and she squealed and clenched up at once, scrambling up on shaky legs in a panic.

Cormac was right there, his hand on her cheek. "What's wrong?"

"The charm doesn't work. I can't—" Warm wet trickled down her leg and her stomach hurt and she pressed her thighs together and _sobbed_.

"Shh, it's okay. You were just too upset to focus on the spell." He drew his wand and pointed it at her legs and the cloak. " _Evanesco._ "

"It's so gross. Disgusting." Tears were running down her burning cheeks and she realised that her fists were still clenching her skirt at the level of her hips and she couldn't do anything with any of it.

"You're not disgusting. Hey. If you don't believe me..."

His voice sounded a bit odd, strained, and he took her chin between his fingers and tipped her head down to look. His hand cupped the straining bulge of his erection in an almost protective gesture, as if he was worried she'd kick him in the groin for it.

The shock of it stopped her crying. "You... it... it turns you on that I need to pee?" Her voice was squeaky with disbelief.

"I can't help it," he said sharply, his voice as defensive as the hand curled over his groin. He took a deep, uneven breath, eyeing her as if she were about to start screaming at him for being a pervert. "It's not that you need to pee. Not in itself. It's... this bossy, brilliant girl that I've had a boner for since I was seventeen. It's you, that you're this vulnerable with me, that you trust me this much. Even if it's only because you _have_ to trust me, it's... intense. I can't help that it turns me on. If you go through with this I'll likely come in my pants, and then you can despise me forever." He grimaced. "I mean, even more than before."

"I wouldn't," she said shakily. "I mean, I don't despise you any longer. I wouldn't despise you for _that_." 

He looked staggered, and a bit wary still. "Honestly?"

"Promise." She almost wanted to cry again just because it was so sweet of him to admit this, to take that risk to make it easier for her. She had always figured that Cormac McLaggen had all the very worst traits of Gryffindor. She had never guessed that along with the brash, cocky attitude he could be generous and protective.

"Thanks." He leaned in, and kissed her temple, just a light brush of his lips. "You weren't done."

She closed her eyes, whimpering. "I don't know—"

"You barely got started. You're in pain, aren't you?" His hand reached round, splayed out large and warm at the small of her back and rubbed down in small circles. "Just let go. Let it happen, now, just like this. It will feel good," he murmured. "I'll take care of things." He was talking to her like a lover coaxing her to orgasm, and Hermione responded to the tenderness in his voice and his touch as much as her own burning physical urge. She leaned against him, hesitantly parting her thighs, relaxing her hips and her muscles down below.

She cried out and buried her face against his chest as the dam broke. The burning liquid streamed down the inside of her leg, splashing on the floor, and she almost panicked again as the damp hot smell of urine hit her nostrils, but Cormac cast the cleaning spell at once and even as she emptied her bladder the evidence was cleaned away from her skin and the cloak she stood upon.

And for some strange reason, the shame receded, replaced by a physical relief that was enormous, close to erotic and certainly emotional with the way Cormac was talking to her, whispering over and over to let it come, that she was all right, that everything was fine.

She was trembling when it was over. "I'm done, I think."

"Good," he said softly, "that's my good girl," kissing her again, first the tears on her cheeks and then for real, his hand sliding into her hair and his tongue inside her mouth.

She kissed him back, dazed enough to simply accept the fact that she _wanted_ to kiss him back and that for the moment, at least, she didn't want to hex him for calling her his good girl. The movements of his mouth on hers were hungry, full of longing, and she drew back and glanced down between them. "Did you—?" she whispered.

"No," he said with a strained chuckle, "I can still look you in the eye."

Hermione let out her breath carefully. Her hand touched his hard, flat stomach, and he groaned, breathing hard and ducking back as if she'd punched him, his eyes bright and wary.

"You'd better not—"

"No, I want to." She slid her hand down, fully conscious now of what she wanted, exactly what she was doing, as she cupped his erection through his trousers and squeezed. "This... you're like this because you liked watching me. That makes us even, right?"

His eyes rolled back and he moaned and pressed himself into her hand as she rubbed him slow and steady. He was _big_ rubbing back against the pressure, and she could feel him swelling further.

"Stands to reason you're larger than life everywhere," she whispered with a shy laugh. "Your body, your ego..." She hesitated. "Your cock." Biting her lip, she just watched as he clutched hard with both hands at her bottom and started to shake against her.

" _Hermione_. Oh, fuck, oh _god_ —" He leaned down and kissed her hard and deep as he came, his hips snapping into her hand with the pulses of his release, his grunts of pleasure coming hoarse and abandoned against her lips and tongue.

Her palm was damp. She took her wand and cast a spell on the wet spot at the front of his trousers, her focus steady and her voice perfectly clear this time. " _Evanesco_." Sheathing her wand again, she clasped her arms around his waist and held him tight.

He gave a hoarse chuckle, nuzzling into her hair. "I see where you get your reputation for efficiency," he murmured, his voice tinged with more than a little bit of awe.

"Are you going to tell me that turns you on, as well?" she said with a sheepish smile against his shirt.

"Hell, yeah. I'm pretty much turned on for the duration, here. You minx."

"I thought I was a good girl."

"Who says you can't be both?" His hand rubbed down her back, slow and soothing, gentling her. "You're all right, yeah?"

"I suppose so," she said softly. "I think I'd better not think about it, or I may still freak out and start screaming, and this room is really too small for that."

He cupped her cheek in his palm, his thumb caressing her eyebrow. Slowly, his warm fingers slipped down her neck. "I could give you something else to think of."

Her face suffused with a heat that was more voluptuous than shy, arousal twisting in her stomach. Common sense would probably be to tell him no; the situation had already got too far out of hand.

But when he kissed her and gently squeezed her breasts in his large hands, she moaned assent into his mouth, pressing her stiffening nipples against his caressing thumbs. And when he sank down on his knees and raised the edge of her skirt, she shifted her legs wider apart and did nothing to stop him. Her knickers still lay on the floor and there _was_ nothing to stop him. She looked down under heavy eyelids at his blond head between her thighs, and whimpered wantonly when she felt his tongue lick hot and wet at her inner thigh, teasing around her curls, the slight scratch of his jaw rubbing against her tender skin. 

It felt like she'd been waiting for this since the moment they'd been locked in this closet. That's what the erotic dream had been about, no matter that it was Ron's name she'd said out loud. It had been about wanting Cormac, something she'd never have been able to admit to herself. She supported herself with her hands on his wide shoulders, closing her eyes in anticipation. He touched out with the soft, soft tip of his tongue to shift the hood over her clit and she encouraged him with urgent moans low in her throat, the muscles in her legs locking as she strained to meet the delicate caress full on.

A door banged, somewhere in the house.

"Hermione!" Ron's voice echoed down from the ground floor. "Hermione, are you there?"

She was frozen, disorientated, but Cormac was on his feet in a moment, tugging down her skirt, bellowing and hammering his fist on the door. "Weasley! We're in the cellar!"

"They're downstairs!" Ron shouted.

There was a rush of footsteps on the floor above and down the steps as Cormac turned to her urgently. "Come home to me tonight. For dinner, all right? We'll talk. Nothing else needs to happen."

Hermione flushed pink, squeaking as she saw her knickers on the floor and diving down to get them. Damn, there were no pockets on her skirt. She thrust the scrap of lace at him in panic, and Cormac snatched the knickers and tucked them into his trouser pocket with a broad grin.

"You'll come tonight?" he insisted.

"I don't know... No, not tonight, I need some time to think," she stammered.

"If I give you time to think, you'll be ashamed of yourself and disgusted with me. You'll forget that I'm human." Unsmiling, now, he slid both hands into her hair, his lips touching hers with a musky-salt trace of her own arousal. "Tonight. Go home and have a shower and a change of clothes if you like. I'll be expecting you at seven."

"Hermione!" Ron's voice was very close.

Cormac let his hands fall. "In here," he shouted, banging on the door again. She slipped behind him and stepped into her shoes, then wiped her face with the heels of her hands to get rid of any remaining tear stains.

The door swung open, bringing a flood of bright, low afternoon light, and she heard Ron's voice, suddenly aggressive. "McLaggen. Where is she?"

"Granger? Oh, I was feeling peckish so I decided to have her for lunch," Cormac drawled, before turning and looking at her over his shoulder. He gave a slight nod, a signal that she was presentable.

She stepped into sight, her hours-long irritation with Ron mellowing as she saw the concern and relief written all over his face. "I'm okay," she said firmly.

He reached out a hand to her. "Ever heard of 'ladies first', McLaggen?" he sneered, as he scooped her past Cormac and into a bear-hug. "Merlin, you're really okay? We got called back to headquarters for an emergency job. I was worried sick when I couldn't find you afterwards."

Harry came barging downstairs at that moment, and hurried over, giving her a pat on the back. "Everything okay?" He cast a narrow-eyed look after Cormac, who'd picked up his cloak and was on his way to the stairs. "McLaggen didn't give you any trouble, did he?" he added, without bothering to lower his voice very much.

"No," she insisted. "We just got locked up in that closet. It was warded as some sort of holding cell, could only be opened from the outside. I'm fine."

Strangely, it was the worried way they both looked at her, as though they found it hard to believe that she'd come through five hours in a closet with Cormac McLaggen unscathed, that made up her mind. Because... she knew better, didn't she? She knew him better than that, now.

"Cormac!"

With his foot on the first step, he half-turned at the sound of her voice, looking at her along his broad shoulder, his jaw clenched as he took in the sight of her in Ron's arms. Out here, out of the tiny room, she saw even better how big he was, and wondered how he had fit into the cramped closet with her at all. He reminded her of a lion escaped from a cage.

"I'll be there at seven," she said, at once blushing at the breathlessness of her voice.

He smiled — at first astonished, then brilliantly. "I'll be waiting."

He bounded up the stairs three steps at a time, the big, grown man reacting like a cheerful young boy. Hermione's fingertips flew to her lips, trying to control the smile that wanted to take over her face.

Harry and Ron were staring in horror at her when she looked back at them, and she drew a deep breath, realising only now that if they'd been just a little bit earlier, she'd have been spared some of the most mortifying moments of her life.

And yet — wasn't that strange? She wasn't sure, all things considered, that she'd have wanted to be spared.

Still, sometimes attack was the most efficient line of diversion, if not defence. She poked a finger into Ron's chest, then Harry's.

"Five hours. _Five_. Give me a single good reason why I shouldn't kill you both!"

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The song Cormac sings the first verse of is the Scottish love song "Fair young Mary" in the Gaelic version. You can hear the melody [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4DnSMuIG5HU). The verse in English translation is as follows:
> 
>  
> 
> _Oh, rapture to be, my fair young Mary,_  
>  With thee, my beautiful bride:  
> In love true and strong that ne'er shall vary,  
> A bond the clergy have tied;  
> This covenant sure, approved by heaven,  
> Secure shall ever abide,  
> And, since with goodwill thy hand is given,  
> I thrill with pleasure and pride.
> 
>  
> 
> (This as a service to my fellow romantics. *g*)
> 
> 2\. My beta says that I shall have to write another sequel, and I suppose she's right.


End file.
